


All That She Wants

by silverfoxflower



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Dates, F/F, Fluff and Humor, Minor Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:33:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29978802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverfoxflower/pseuds/silverfoxflower
Summary: “Don’t even move a muscle. I’m coming to get you.”Triss looked helplessly at her phone as Yennefer abruptly hung up. With a thin sigh, she slid it into her bag and walked back to her table.“Something wrong?” her date, a Julian something or another glanced up when she approached. He was, she saw, sending a picture of his dinner to someone.(or, Triss goes on a blind date. Yennefer gets jealous.)
Relationships: Triss Merigold/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 3
Kudos: 51





	All That She Wants

“Don’t. Move.” 

Triss opened her mouth to reply, only to hear Yennefer snap, again.

“Don’t even move a muscle. I’m coming to get you.” 

Triss looked helplessly at her phone as Yennefer abruptly hung up. With a thin sigh, she slid it into her bag and walked back to her table.

“Something wrong?” her date, a Julian something or another glanced up when she approached. He was, she saw, sending a picture of his dinner to someone. 

“Just a friend having some … issues,” Triss said, picking up her knife and fork. She should tell Yennefer not to come. She knew full well the drama Yen would cause, and cause with _relish_ , too, but honestly … Triss would be lying if she didn’t admit she enjoyed it. 

She had always envied Yennefer her ability to do and say what she wanted, whenever she wanted, fuck the consequences. 

Because Triss had always been the _good_ girl. The girl who followed the rules, or at least gave the appearance of doing so. The girl smiled and complimented your shoes even though she privately thought they were atrocious. The girl who said yes to a blind date with a friend of a friend of a friend (who, she was assured, was going to be _so good for her_ ) even though, privately, she knew that she was already hopelessly in love with someone else. 

“… and I _said_ , I don’t really care about the tiling, just tear the whole thing out. ‘s my parent’s house, I just want it off my hands- … ah,” Julian leaned back as the waiter set down their main course.

Triss examined him over the rim of her wine glass. He wasn’t a bad sort, probably. Good on paper: pretty, rich, affable enough. He had a terrible habit of rambling, though, and she privately wondered if he was being purposefully tedious - going on about … structures of academic hierarchy, the politics of musical critique, the tiling in his inherited beachhouse - things even he couldn’t possibly find interesting. Everyone she talked to had professed how _charming_ he was, but she just wasn’t seeing it. 

_Well_ , Triss thought as she slipped a bite of fish between her lips, at least he wasn’t _completely_ uncommunicative. 

“And you?” Julian asked, and very politely for how she’d been drifting off. 

She was saved from manufacturing a response by a sudden commotion in the front. 

“… _yes_ , my party is already here, I see them-” 

Yennefer was here, a whirl of dark hair and stiletto heels, striding over with a thunderous look on her face. Just behind her was … her ex?

Triss slid a look to Julian and saw, in the midst of the confusion in his expression … unexpected, horrified _recognition_. 

“Yennefer?” Julian asked loudly, “What the … what the fuck are _you_ doing here? And Geralt-” 

“I’m just here to make sure she doesn’t kill you,” Geralt muttered, as Yennefer drew in a quick breath. 

“I was going to manufacture some half-believeable reason to drag her away, but now that I see who’s behind it-” Yennefer narrowed her eyes at Julian. “I don’t know what foolish games you think you’re playing, but you keep Triss _out_ of them.” 

“Ok _ay_ ,” Julian stood abruptly with a loud scrape of his chair, showing more passion than he had exhibited all evening, “What are you even accusing me- … what, I’m having a nice dinner with a hot girl to spite _you_?” 

They were shouting. Everyone was staring at them. Triss finished her wine quickly as she saw the waiters begin to descend. Geralt, evidently seeing the same, was pulling Julian out of his chair by his arms, rifling through his pockets and sliding a handful of apologetic bills under his plate. 

“Just fuck Geralt already and get it over with!” Yennefer spat, and in the resulting silence, grabbed Triss by the arm and marched away. 

–

“… smarmy little twink can just figure shit out with Geralt _himself_ instead of playing these little _mind games_ -” 

“Well,” Triss said, sliding into the passenger seat of Yennefer’s cherry-red Jag, “that’s one restaurant I _won’t_ be going back to.” 

Paused abruptly in her tirade, Yennefer glanced at Triss, then away, turning the key in the ignition. “Sorry,” she muttered. “Sorry you had to deal with … all of this.” 

“No big loss. The wine selection was fair, but they overcooked the fish,” Triss said lightly. She twisted her fingers through the patterned sundress on her lap, wondering how she would best phrase the question which trembled on the tip of her tongue. 

Did Yennefer come get her because Triss was on a date with _Julian_ , or because Triss was on … a date? 

They paused at a red light, and Yennefer groaned loudly, resting her forehead on the steering wheel. In the next car over - a lovingly-maintained vintage Jeep - Geralt and Julian were having their own little strained moment, sitting next to each other while stiffly, silently avoiding eye contact. Triss thought about waving, just to make things extra awkward. 

“You weren’t … enjoying yourself, were you?” Yennefer asked, her voice quiet, a little petulant, perhaps. 

“Oh I don’t know,” Triss said, smoothing her hands over her lap. Twist. Smooth. Twist. Smooth. “He was interesting enough, I suppose. Great conversationalist.” 

“Yeah,” Yennefer said, her lip twisting, “he’s known for that.” She shot Triss a look as the light turned. “You’re lucky I got you out of there before he tricked you out of your panties. He’s such a fucking slut. I’d never hear the end of it.” 

“Gods forbid that _you_ never hear the end of _my_ choices in sexual partners,” Triss said dryly, and Yennefer flushed. 

“You know what I mean,” she muttered. It was dark. The lights outside the window were sliding through the car. Now red. Now blue. Now a warm, glowing yellow which traced through every curl of Yennefer’s dark hair, painted the shape of her face in stark relief from the dark of her lashes to the red fullness of her lips. 

Triss wanted to kiss her so badly it hurt. 

“You didn’t need to rescue me, you know,” Triss said, adding quietly, _though I hoped you would. Though I manufactured this entire scenario just so you would._

Julian’s identify was a a surprise, though. 

“Considering your choice in partners, I’d say you did,” Yennefer said with a snort. She glanced at Triss, evidently misreading her expression. “Sorry. You couldn’t have known.” 

Yes. Julian was a mistake. Because now Triss’s little game was all entangled with Yennefer’s baggage over Geralt, and there was no way to parse hope from speculation. Leaving only …

The Jag pulled into the underground parking level, which was dark, lit with harsh fluorescent space. Entirely unromantic, Triss thought, but when Yennefer turned to look at her, she couldn’t bring herself to care.

“Hey,” Yennefer said, then glanced down, away. Her fingers were tapping on the steering wheel, her painted nails cut short, bitten to the quick. 

_Now or never,_ Triss thought feverishly, leaning towards Yennefer’s warm mouth.

It was time to stop being the _good girl_. 

– 

They met again at brunch, where Julian introduced himself, laughingly, as _Jaskier_. 

“Did you give me a fake name?” Triss teased as they took their seats under the cool awning. 

“No, no,” Jaskier said, accepting his menu from the waiter. “Julian is my given name. I only really use Jaskier with … friends.” He slid a look at Geralt, who hummed noncommittally. 

Though under their glass table, Triss could see Geralt’s knuckle rubbing the sliver of skin between Jaskier’s jeans and his shirt. 

“A pitcher of sangria, please,” Yennefer ordered, her voice aggrieved, “not for the table, just for me.” 

Triss smiled at her, and thought about kissing her on the cheek, but settled for putting a hand on her thigh, her thumb rubbing a slow circle through the mesh of Yennefer’s skirt. 

“So Geralt tells me you’re a _florist_ ,” Jaskier said, leaning forward with interest, “ _that’s_ a Hallmark movie profession if I’ve ever heard of it. How many times have you sent the same bouquet to a guy’s wife and his sidepiece? Were you ever tempted, you know, to exchange the cards?” 

It was almost as if he were an entirely different person from he had been previously. He sparkled warmly, and Triss felt herself doing the same, and though Yennefer and Geralt were still as cagey as two cats forced to share the same, well, _cage_ , eventually they warmed with the alcohol. 

And they all had, _finally_ , a very good date. 

**Author's Note:**

> my [tumblr](https://greyduckgreygoose.tumblr.com/tagged/myfic)


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